


The Provocation of Peter Parker

by Princess_Breetlejuice



Series: Dangerous, Insane, and Consensual [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Blood Drinking, Blood Play, Cannibalism, Consensual Kink, D/s, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Wade, Dismemberment, Dom!Peter, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, Knife Play, M/M, Possessive!Peter, Sub!Wade, Wade being a shit, Wade dies a lot, addressing Wade's stalking, unhealthy relationships getting healthier, voluntary self-cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Breetlejuice/pseuds/Princess_Breetlejuice
Summary: Part 1, “Wade Wilson’s Ruination” is required reading.Peter and Wade have to explain what the fuck happened last night to Clint and Tony. Clint, Tony, and Peter are desperate to fix Peter before he hurts someone else.Wade is just waiting for Peter to lose control again.Read the tags.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Dangerous, Insane, and Consensual [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857283
Comments: 72
Kudos: 323





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my enablers for holding me at gun point to write this. Will you let me out of the basement, yet? I miss my turtle.
> 
> I would like to thank my cheer reader/beta RoxyWolf and my beta Kr15xxx. Their help was amazing!

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples. It was too early for this shit and he was regretting his dedication to sobriety. “So you are saying that, whatever this is, it’s a characteristic of your mutation?”

“Yeah, I think it is. I didn’t have these urges before I got bit. I noticed it after two months or so,” Peter slouched. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Tony interrogated. “We could have studied it, figured out how to treat it.”

The four were sitting in a conference room near Tony’s office: Tony at the head of the table, Peter on Tony’s right, Wade across from Peter, and Clint was on the back of his chair beside Wade. 

Wade had insisted on coming for support. He seemed to be in the best spirits out of all of them, though the recap was boring him. Petey didn’t even include any of the gory details. Wade spent the time stroking Peter’s calf with his foot and got distracted in the freedom of being allowed to touch him. He was dressed in the random street clothes Friday had gotten him, though he really would have liked to cover up more. No mask, no gloves, practically acres on display. He really didn’t like the way Iron Dick’s eyes lingered, repulsed, over his skin. It was worse that Tony was trying to be cordial by poorly hiding his disgust. Wade couldn’t blame him, but it didn’t mean he liked it. 

Overall, the atmosphere was as pleasant as a mouse at a mouse trap convention. “It was embarrassing. And scary. I never wanted anyone to know. I- I thought I had it under control.”

“But you didn’t,” Clint reminded him. “And you killed someone.”

Clint’s concern was flattering, and while Wade was pleased to learn their work relationship had apparently elevated to friendship, Wade didn’t need Clint’s concern right now. This wasn’t helping him convince Peter that they should totally play again. “I don’t think it counts as killing if I’m still here.” He stretched dramatically, showing he was perfectly fine. 

“You weren’t just killed, Wade. You were tortured and mutilated,” Clint retorted. 

Wade huffed and leaned his cheek onto his hand. “Them's some harsh words, birdbrain. I wouldn’t describe it that way.”

“It’s not just about you. What if he does it to anyone else? He was lucky you would bounce back. This is some fucked up, serial killer shit and we can’t have someone like him wandering around.”

Wade took some offence to the “someone like him” part. It sounded too much like mutant prejudice to him, but he decided it was not the proper venue to discuss the issue. He filed it away for a conversation during their next teamup. 

“How bad was it,” Tony asked Clint. The older man didn’t know what to make of the situation yet.

“It was a horror show. There was blood everywhere, enough blood for a few people. It was on the ceiling, on the walls, just everywhere.” Peter made himself as small as possible, mortified. “I found pieces of Deadpool’s suit like fucking confetti. I think I found what was left of his arm and leg. Maybe a rib. There could be more, but I’m not an investigator. ”

“What do you mean, ‘what was left of’,” Tony asked, not sure if he wanted to know. 

“They were scattered around. The bones were broken and a lot of the skin and muscle was gone. Like an animal attack or something. I don’t know, it looked like-,”

Peter couldn’t listen to Clint’s speculation. “I ate it,” he spat, like it burned him.

It was silent for a while. Clint and Tony were not sure what to say to Peter’s admission. 

Clint recovered first, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ. What the fuck?”

“I don’t know! It started with getting really angry. Then I started wanting to hurt people. Then I started to… get hungry. For people. And it was so overwhelming that I couldn’t breathe.”

“So you ate Deadpool?”

“Not on purpose. I went there to be away from everyone and he showed up. I don’t even know how he found me and I couldn’t stop myself from doing everything my instincts wanted.” The boy’s voice cracked and a sob broke through. “He shouldn’t have been there. I thought I was alone and everyone was safe from me. I didn’t know he was there and next thing I know, I’m doing unforgivable things to him. And then I couldn’t stop. I can’t believe he’s here right now after everything I’ve done!” Wade tried to reassure him by holding Peter’s hand under the table, but Peter’s sobs worsened. 

Clint looked like he was going to say something snarky, but he stopped when he noticed Wade’s expression. It was the kind of look that said “Don’t say anything if you know what’s good for you”.

“Peter,” Tony said carefully after he collected himself. He had a hard time seeing his mentee as anything other than the cheerful, enthusiastic crime fighter. Despite the current situation, he hated how the boy looked like he wanted to evaporate. “We need a plan. Deadpool can bounce back but if this happened to someone else.” He didn’t finish the thought. 

“I know.” Peter lowered his head on the table, no longer able to look at any of them. “I’m really lost. I don’t know what to do, but I’m willing to do anything so this never happens again.”

“Even if we have to lock you up?” Tony asked. He didn’t want to, but they might need to until they come up with a strategy. His control was compromised, and they couldn’t let an unstable super among the public.

Uh oh, Wade didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Lock up? Why would he go into lock up?”

“So we can keep him away from people while we figure out how to control his mutation,” Tony reminded him.

Wade replied, matter-of-factly, “We already have a way to control it,” 

That was news to everyone. Tony was skeptical. He wasn’t pleased that Deadpool was in the Tower to begin with, but he wasn’t going to kick him out now. “And what is that?”

“He finds me when he gets his urges and works them out, obviously. I’ll get a frankly brutal booty call, and Spider-babe can be sexy again. It’s simple, genius.” Wade was satisfied when his declaration made Tony look wildly uncomfortable. 

“You can’t just do that,” Clint said.

Wade pretended to file his nails with an imaginary nail file. “Of course I can.”

Clint reminded him, “You can heal, but you still feel pain.”

“Yeah, no shit. Dude, I’m touched, really. I’m digging the bromance. We can raise a card collection together. But here’s the thing: I want to do it again.”

“What did he,” Clint pointed at Peter, “do to you? No one would want that done to them.”

“You’ve got a lot more to learn about me if you think I’m not into being eaten by that gorgeous hunk of man over there.” Wade wiggled his eyebrows at a furiously blushing Peter. He wondered if Peter could still taste his cum in his mouth. It had been hours ago, but God, he certainly hoped traces remained and he was thinking about it now. 

“This is insane!” Clint threw his hands into the air and nearly toppled off the chair. When he rebalanced himself, he added, “I’ve fallen into crazy land, in the town of batshit-ville, on Kooky Lane, and you all are here with me.”

This conversation was really not going anywhere Tony wanted to hear. He’d already heard too much. “That’s enough for me, folks. Kid, Deadpool, I need you guys to hole up in the suite for a while. I can’t let you guys out before we get this sorted.” He grabbed his phone and started making arrangements.“I’m clearing out that floor and your access will be restricted. I have a bunch of people I need to touch base with. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Peter solemnly accepted his sentence with a nod, Wade perked up, and Clint was not satisfied. 

***  
Once they got back to the suite, they both set to preparations for an extended stay. Peter sent for a few changes of clothes, his books, his laptop, other tech, and a few school supplies. Wade sent for civilian clothes, his maid apron, his katanas, and his unicorn. He gave them the password that would let the errand boys enter his place without getting shot by Blind Al. 

Peter asked Friday if she could get a realistic looking doctor’s note diagnosing Peter with something dangerous and contagious, but survivable; something like norovirus or mono. He figured he could continue his schooling while he was on lockdown if he could get accommodations. If it lasted for more than a few weeks, he might have to withdraw anyway, but it was worth it to try to salvage the semester. 

“I’m really sorry you are locked down with me for all this,” Pete apologized.

“Baby boy, this isn't a lockdown. This is the best sleepover ever!” 

“Sure, a sleepover where you hang out in case I go crazy again. Super great. And neither of us can leave.” There were worse places he could be stuck in and worse people he could be stuck with. He should be more grateful that Tony had allowed him to stay in his fancy suite in the Tower instead of in some cell. The Tower had panic room precautions that would keep him in. When they got back to the suite, the window barriers had been put down and the door bolted behind them. When there was a delivery and the carrier left the floor, the floor would lockdown and the door would open for a short time. Peter could breathe, because everyone else was safe from him. Except Wade.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” Wade sighed dreamily.

Peter spent a few minutes thinking over the previous night and everything since. There might be another way. 

“You know, Tony told you to stay.” He waited until Wade was looking at him. “I don’t think you need to. I could isolate myself in the Hulkout level until they can fix me.” Peter was strong, he could handle this by himself, couldn’t he?

Wade hadn’t heard of the Hulkout level before, but he could imagine what it entailed. It was probably cold, grey, and indestructible. “Yeah, no. Not leaving.”

Peter was relieved that Wade was staying by him, but tried not to show it. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t be able to handle this alone. However, he was frustrated at Wade’s lack of self-preservation. “So what do we do if I attack you again?”

“You aren’t thinking about this the right way. It’s going to happen eventually.” He saw Peter wince. “So, we prepare for when it’s going to happen.”

“How in the world do we prepare for something like this? Tarps? Extra limbs?”

“Tarps are good, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I think we need to discuss limits.”

***  
It was a long, tedious, and exhausting discussion to work out their limits.

Peter was not cooperative at first. He wouldn’t admit that he was into cannibalism or blood or dismemberment or anything else he had put Wade through. He wanted to push those desires onto the Spider, not him. 

Wade didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press the issue. The best course of action was to set an example on how scene negotiations should go. 

Wade discussed how he couldn’t handle oxygen deprivation. Choking, suffocating, asphyxiating, and drowning were permanently off the table. Nothing Peter could ever say or do would ever change that. Peter could have his submission, but he did not have Wade’s consent to pass that boundary. He didn’t need to justify his limits and neither did Peter. 

Peter was doubtful that his Spider would obey his limits and any rules they tried to enforce. Wade reminded him that, even in his animalistic state of mind, Peter hadn’t violated that limit. That had sparked more conversation that was ultimately unproductive. Their discussion couldn’t continue until the next day. 

When Peter was ready to talk again, they moved onto soft limits. These were things he didn’t necessarily enjoy, but could take with moderation. He didn’t want to have to use his brain much and he didn’t want to be set up to fail. He wanted to receive simple, concise, and achievable orders. He never wanted to displease the dominant when something was out of his control or impossible. That was part of why he was upset when Peter made him eat his fingers. He had no tongue to position the appendage to swallow it. 

This had once again upset Peter and Peter spent the next few hours manically writing a lab report. 

The rest of the soft limits were easier to get through. Watersports weren’t his thing, but he would take it if his dominant was adamant about it. He didn’t like being left alone during or after a scene. If he was honest, he would have labeled it a hard limit, but he didn’t want to seem needy. He talked about how he didn’t like being called ugly, repulsive, or disgusting. He wasn’t a fan of anything that reminded him of being tested on: needles, scalpels, medical tables, lab coats.

Finally, they eventually got to his scene wants. It took him over an hour to outline them all. They weren’t requirements, but were things he would enjoy in a scene. These were much more fun to talk about than the hard and soft limits. He wanted to be thorough in case he could give Peter some ideas. 

Wade had recently discovered his love for all things blood play. Yes, yes, yes, more, please.

He always loved knife or gun play, especially with his own weapons. It was humiliating to get hurt by one’s possessions. 

He loved playing all aspects of crossdressing, though he preferred to be the one in pretty garments. 

He liked all kinds of bondage and was really into the webs. He had a special place in his heart for predicament bondage. It was delightfully miserable to be stuck between pain and agony because predicament bondage left no winners.

He loved being Daddy Deadpool. He could totally be a submissive Daddy, most doms just weren’t creative enough to make it work. Or Mommy Deadpool, if he was dressed pretty enough. 

He liked a healthy amount of praise kink in his scenes, but only when it was paired with pain. The compliments felt false otherwise. 

He spoke about being open to all sexual acts, but he would appreciate if he could keep his dick where it was. Dick-ripping was a soft limit, though he hadn’t tried it so he couldn’t be certain. 

There were countless other kinks he gladly outlined in excruciating detail. Peter was furiously red as he listened on. It was one thing to hear about Wade’s perversions. It was another to hear about it when it was relevant and important information. He tried to memorize it all, but Wade’s kinks were numerous. He didn’t even know half of them existed outside of bizarre erotica. 

Of course, Wade made it worse because he couldn’t just give a bulleted list. Every item on his ‘yes’ list came with a salacious anecdote. Why would he, when he could tell Peter about that very nice Jehovah’s Witness boy in Panama. Or the Shibari expert in Montana that wanted to do a photoshoot with Wade for his monster-themed gallery. Or doing fish hook suspensions in a small Alaskan fishing village. Every story had Peter wiggling in his seat, equal parts horrified and titillated. Peter’s experiences, sexual or otherwise, paled in comparison to anything Wade had done. 

Peter could not confront his desires as openly as Wade did. Wade was not ashamed of what he wanted in an intimate setting, not that he should be. Not many would sigh longingly for a strike from a moose antler paddle, but he wasn't a worse person for wanting it. It wasn’t anything like Peter’s twisted mind and Wade wasn’t understanding the difference. 

Peter struggled to share his own desires. He would open his mouth and no sound would come out. Eventually, Wade suggested Peter write down a list of yes’s, maybe’s, and no’s. This led to Peter staring a hole into the page, like a student taking a test they didn’t prepare for. 

The solution was surprisingly easy. He simply suggested that Peter write the list for the Spider, not for himself. A couple hours after that, Peter sheepishly threw the list at Wade and ran to hide under the sheets.

The Spider didn’t want to play with unwilling prey. It didn’t want prey to say no or stop. Wade helpfully informed him that this meant he wasn’t into non-consensual consent, or CNC. It meant that they didn’t necessarily need a safe word, but they would negotiate one anyway. 

The Spider didn’t want bodily fluids other than blood or cum. 

The Spider really really wanted to try different implements. Nothing too impersonal, though, where he would need to be far away from his prey. He liked it up close and intimate, but implements could deliver a variety of sensations he couldn’t with his nails or teeth.

The Spider wanted to make Wade cry. Peter’s handwriting on this item was jagged and uneven, like he had been forced to write it at gunpoint. The rest of the list shared that uneasy hand.

The Spider wanted to know what Wade’s chest muscles tasted like. Did it taste differently than his arm and tongue?

The Spider thought Wade looked pretty when he was missing a few pieces.

The Spider wanted to figure out how to put his mark on Wade. He wanted Wade to carry the mark with him for everyone to see. Wade knew that wasn’t possible, but suggested he could get a piercing. He could probably figure out a way to stop his body from rejecting it. Maybe. If he dreamed hard enough. And maybe made a few blood sacrifices. 

The Spider wanted to fuck Wade, drain him of his blood, and continue to fuck him as he came back to life. Wade didn’t say anything about this, but he made a note to keep himself clean and lubricated for the foreseeable future. 

Wade was thrilled that they had finally gotten through their negotiations. The Spider wanted to do a great many things to him, which Wade was completely on board with. He hid some of his excitement when he read that Peter wanted to screw him. He didn’t know how he ever got so lucky and what he had done to please the great author in the sky. This was better than he could have hoped for when Tony sentenced them to house arrest. He thought he’d have to fap to the guilt blowjob for the rest of his life, but no! It was likely his spank bank would soon overflow. 

Peter’s list was not nearly as exhaustive as Wade’s, but it was a start. The boy had exactly one scene under his belt and would take many more to figure out what he did and didn’t like. Negotiation would be a continuous process that would need to take place after every scene. 

Peter declared he was too humiliated to talk to Wade for the rest of the day. He seemed determined to become one with the mattress. It wasn’t enough that Peter had written those things. It wasn’t enough that Peter had had to give Wade the horrible things he wrote. Wade had commented shamelessly on the list as he read it. Peter had tried to get Wade to shut up about it, but Wade had insisted that this was a vital part of negotiation. Negotiation was beginning to sound a lot like torture. 

Wade considered it a cruel and unusual punishment to be ignored. He lured the mortified sadist out of his cocoon with an argument about the merits of M Night Shyamalan’s masterpiece, The Last Airbender. Peter was so enraged by the desecration of his childhood that he forgot to be embarrassed. 

****

Wade was provoking him. Peter knew he was being provoked, but he couldn’t find it in him to tell Wade to stop.

The provocateur started by asking Friday to get more of his stuff. He had already sharpened and polished his katanas within an inch of their lives. When he was done, he could split a hair by thinking about his swords. But then he was bored, because he had to entertain himself while Peter was busy with his coursework and he had nothing else to do.

He sent more chore boys to get more weapons from his apartment. He didn’t give his collection as much attention because he didn’t need them in tip top condition for missions. SHIELD tended to equip him, anyway. He was a neglectful daddy and this was a great chance to spoil his sharp children. Or, at least, that’s what he told Peter when he asked why there were all varieties of sharp implements strewn about. 

The most prominent display was a three foot long by eight inches wide bamboo box. It was lined with black velvet, because of course it was. Inside rested two dozen stainless steel throwing knives with spear tips. They showed their age. They once had a black coating, but that had been stripped away from years of practice, particularly near the tip. They felt gorgeous and weighty to hold and practically sang when they flew through the air. Wade loved them like an old friend. They were a gift from a merc associate when he had a lot less cancer and was slightly more tolerable to be around. He typically kept them locked away until he decided to brush up on his knife throwing marksmanship. 

For this special occasion, he kept the case open and artfully placed on the kitchen island. It was out of the way, but it drew Peter’s eye whenever he passed by. 

Wade left a butterfly knife on the bathroom counter, and would remind Peter it was there by periodically doing tricks with it. 

He stashed his faithfully reproduced Kilij on top of the cabinets. He giddily told Peter about why it was his favorite Turkish sword and how its double-edged tip could cut through bone.

He stashed his scythe behind the couch, though it was poorly hidden. It poked up over the cushions and was a hazard when sitting down. He commissioned it for his grim reaper cosplay to both look badass and be deadly. It was crudely constructed, not as sleek as many of his other pieces. The blade was thick and heavy with an uneven, pounded surface. He’d never killed anyone with it, but he imagined it would be a rough way to go. 

He distributed combat and tactical knives like a demented Easter Bunny. He made sure Peter was at all times and all places within the suites, only a few feet from a sharp implement. 

Then, he challenged Peter to a wrestling match. They couldn’t laze around all day and lose their edge, now could they? They tried it once, but Peter had Wade pinned quickly. It was like Wade wasn’t even trying to win, which he probably wasn’t. Peter called the match off when he found himself wanting to know what Wade’s ear tasted like. It was right there, he could snatch it before Wade even knew what happened to him. It might feel like bubble gum under his teeth. 

He escaped into the bathroom and turned down all further training requests.

Then Wade started complaining about the heat. It was a perfectly temperate room that had suddenly become unbearable. They checked with Friday and, of course, the room was maintained at 75 degrees. While he lounged around, he gradually began to wear fewer clothes. He lost his shirt early on, then his pants were rolled up, then they became shorts. The next thing Peter knew, Wade was only clothed in sparkly booty shorts. 

Wade was nervous at first, but Peter was enraptured by every new inch of skin. Wade was waiting for the moment he caught a whiff of disgust from Peter, but it never happened. He would have backed off when he was pushing Peter’s limits, but he never found the edge. He began to think that, maybe, Peter looked past his skin. 

Peter was a mess whenever Wade decided to exercise near him and his coursework suffered for it. Wade’s routine involved handstands, push ups, and squats, all of which turned Peter’s notes to gibberish. He found the ideal angles that showed off his best assets to Peter’s reluctant attention. Wade was finding every excuse to bend over to show off his ass or stretch, accentuating every muscle in his body. It’s amazing how such a spatially aware man could suddenly become so clumsy. How does a trained mercenary drop the knife for the tenth time in an hour? 

Peter didn’t stand a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

Five days into house arrest, Wade was washing dishes. He was wearing his sexy 50’s housewife apron and pink booty shorts with “BITCH” across the ass. Wade had been practicing the domestic arts and opted to cook instead of getting delivery. They had just finished breakfast and Peter was wasting time on his phone while trying to ignore Wade’s ass shaking.

Suddenly, something occurred to Peter. It had been subtly tugging at his thoughts for the past few days, but he’d finally pinned down what it was. “Hey, Wade?” 

“Yes, Petey-Pie?”

“You know how I have this whole secret identity thing?”

“Of course,” Wade replied distractedly, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn piece of food. How had that gotten stuck on when they had just eaten?

“And you know that most people shouldn’t know my name? Spiderman and Peter Parker are separate entities.”

Wade resorted to scratching it with his nail. He was about ready to smash the plate so he didn’t need to deal with it. “Yeah, yeah. Protect your loved ones and responsibility and all that.”

“So how did you know my name?”

Wade heard the record scratch. After the inciting incident, he had immediately started calling Spiderman Peter after they woke up. It had made sense at the time. He saw Peter without his mask on, so it was obviously Peter, not Spiderman. He scoured his brain and, nope, Peter had never introduced his super secret identity to him. Uh oh. “Uhh…”

“Because I didn’t tell you,” Peter said like he was daring Wade to try to sell him bullshit. 

Wade brought up a soapy hand to scratch his head. “Would you believe me if I said you whispered your name in your sleep?”

“Wade, I didn’t sleep that first night. And why would I whisper my own name in my sleep?”

Wade realized that would be a lot like moaning your own name during sex. Stupid, stupid. “Shit, okay, need to come up with a better excuse,” he mumbled.

“Dude, you said that out loud,” Peter said, unimpressed and growing agitated.

“Damn it, didn’t use my inside voice. What if I said I saw it sewn into your underwear?” Wade asked, hoping Peter might buy that excuse. 

Peter was not nearly dumb enough to buy that. “How long have you known my identity?” 

He cursed himself, because he was usually a much better liar than that. Or that’s what he liked to tell himself. “Not long,” he answered vaguely. He didn’t want to give away too much information while he was figuring out where Peter was going with this. 

“Does that mean days, weeks, months?” Peter was leaning closer and closer from his stool, like he was going to crawl across the counter to get to Wade. Wade was well out of reach, but Peter’s posture demanded answers. 

“Alright, you caught me, I’ve known for a while.” He hoped his admission was enough to allow for the redirection, “I wasn’t going to tell anyone, so what does it matter?”

“Wade, how long have you known?”

Redirection: failed. He shut off the water and faced Peter, trying to keep his stance relaxed. If he kept his cool, it might stop Peter from getting angry. “I dunno, I didn’t put it on my calendar or anything. Maybe like a year-ish?”

“You knew this whole time?” Peter thought about the hours he spent, agonizing over whether or not he should reveal his identity to Wade. He couldn’t believe Wade had known for so long. “How did you even find out?”

Wade realized he had a few approaches: honesty, half truths, and falsity. If he was honest, he’d say he was obsessed with Spiderman and had sought him out to figure out what the father of his babies would look like. If it was a half truth, he’d say Deadpool wanted to know who he was working with. It sounded cold and detached. He could lie altogether and he found out accidentally. 

Mixing the truth with a lie was the best way to lie, so he settled with, “I was looking for you one night for patrol and I saw you going into your apartment. I did some sleuthing and figured out who you were based on your apartment number,” he said, hoping he sounded contrite. He lowered his head and shoulders to sell the act.

Peter made an exasperated noise from the back of his throat. “Just be honest with me. I really, really don’t think that’s possible. A year ago, my spider sense could pick you up a mile away. I don’t go into my apartment if it’s going crazy. So I’ll ask you again, how did you find out?”

Peter had never told Wade about that before. His spidey-sense must have worn out six months ago, because Wade would have never gotten away with all that surveillance. He didn’t have time to figure out if it meant something that Peter’s spidey-sense didn’t go off around him. He was busy trying to get this conversation to sway his way and find a way to mitigate the damage. “Fine. I put a tracker on you. Found your apartment. Happy?”

“No,” the younger spat back with subtly bared teeth.

Wade groaned loudly. “What do you want to hear?”

“I asked how you found my identity. You said you found my apartment. You didn’t answer my question.” Peter’s tone was low and dangerous.

Wade was too busy trying to find the right angle for this conversation to figure out what Peter’s tone meant. He was frustrated that Peter, who had obviously connected the dots, wanted Wade to spell out his wrongdoings. “Do you want to hear I broke into your apartment to get your identity? Because that’s what I did. I broke into your apartment, rifled through your papers, and found out who you are.”

“Why would you do that? You violated my privacy and my trust.”

“I just.” He was going to give Peter more bullshit, but abandoned that since it hadn’t worked so far. “I did. What do you want?”

“I want to hear what made you think it was okay to put a bug on me and break into my apartment!”

“I knew it was wrong, but I didn’t care. You know I don’t always do the most ethical things. It’s the whole morally grey aspect that makes me a compelling character.”

“Yes, I know, but I trust you!” Peter slammed his hands on the counter and dented the granite. The slip up didn’t faze him, or it didn’t register in the heat of the moment. “You are so selfish an-and you couldn’t wait for me to tell you myself. When I was ready.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever tell me,” Wade confessed. He understood why Peter wouldn’t confide his secrets to Deadpool. Deadpool had a certain reputation. Most people didn’t spend enough around Deadpool to ever meet the man beneath the mask. They wouldn’t know he was loyal to the core, when he cared about someone. “I thought that it would be fine if I knew and kept that shit to myself. Then, if your name came up, I knew it was you and if you showed up in merc circles, I could make it disappear. I can’t protect you if I don’t know who you are.”

Peter just exploded on him. “It’s not your job to protect me! You aren’t allowed to act like violating my privacy was for my own good! I didn’t ask for your protection, I don’t want it, and how fucking dare you. How dare you treat me like some helpless maiden that needs you!”

Wade’s chest ached. The hours of watching and studying him came flooding to the front of his mind. Peter had no idea how much of Wade’s life was consumed with making Peter happy. Wade would gladly trade every good thing that had ever happened to him to give Peter a sliver of safety and contentment.

But Peter didn’t know anything about that. And he shouldn’t. If Wade hadn’t fucked up and started using his name, they wouldn’t have had to have this conversation. He was fucking up his relationships like he always did. Why couldn’t things go smoothly, just this once.

He had nothing to say. He usually could talk endlessly, but he didn’t have it in him to fill the space. The rejection hurt too much. With nothing to say and no longer wanting to take part in this conversation, he walked away. He couldn’t go far, but he could escape the kitchenette. 

“Wade? What the fuck? We are not done here.”

Wade paused, and then kept walking. All he could think about was hiding in the bathroom for the rest of the day. The butterfly knife was still there, right?

Peter had other ideas. He ran after him and pinned an unsuspecting Wade to the wall by his wrists. He nearly went for his throat, but he remembered Wade’s limit. Just because he was pissed didn’t mean he’d push his limits. “You aren’t going to apologize? You are going to run away instead of saying, ‘I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have done that, Peter. Can I make it up to you?’” He squeezed his wrists a little tighter, just a tease of his strength and snarled, “Don’t think I deserve an apology?”

Wade finally made eye contact with Peter and oh. Oh, okay, that made sense. He knew that look. He was terrified of it, but he had missed it in the past five days. Had Peter picked this fight to make Wade deserve this? Or was he so angry that he couldn’t control himself? Maybe he was restless after spending the better part of a week stuck indoors. It could be a combination of those, though that didn’t matter now. While Wade was still reeling with rejection, he was more than ready to be ruined once again. This might help soothe his hurt feelings.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I was wrong.” He slouched and tried to look up at Peter from beneath his eyelashes. Or he would, if he had any. 

Peter hummed approvingly, but was disappointed that Wade hadn’t elaborated further. Wade had to do much better if he was going to be a good boy. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for breaking into your place and figuring out your secret identity.”

“Do you regret it?” Peter squeezed harder to motivate a response. The bones ground together under the pressure. He could turn those bones into powder, but he wasn’t ready to escalate to that level yet. 

Wade may not have regretted breaking into Peter’s apartment, and he would do again if he had to, but he had a modicum of social graces. They were riding the tightrope and Wade didn’t know what would happen if he made Peter too angry. A little fib wouldn’t hurt. Well, if he fibbed and it worked, it would hurt a lot. “Yes, Peter. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you deserve my forgiveness?”

“I don’t know. Did I earn it?”

That must have been the right answer, because Peter looked calamitously delighted. He shook his head, “No, you haven’t.”

“What can I do to earn your forgiveness?” Wade was very into Peter embracing the power play. It was sending him careening into subspace at record speed. 

Peter released one wrist to run a nail down Wade’s face. “You can earn it by being a good, obedient daddy. Will you do that for me?”

Wade’s heart was beating out of his chest. “Anything you want, Sir.” 

“Thank you, daddy.”

Peter leaped up and wrapped around Wade’s torso. Wade’s knees were jelly, the pair plummeted to the floor. As they fell, Peter’s teeth were in Wade’s shoulder, piercing and then savagely ripping back the muscle. He swallowed it down quickly, not savoring the taste as he would have liked. For now, devouring his trapezius served as a means to an end. He tore out the same muscle on the other side and took turns licking at the blood from either wound. Soon, the delicate, pastel yellow apron was stained a lovelier shade. Peter’s prey was far more suited in red than any other color.

As a thin layer of skin tried to grow atop the missing mass, Peter scratched it off to keep the bright blood flowing. He waited until his prey had spilled enough blood and would be weak and lethargic enough. Once his patience ran out, he slid off and moved towards the island. He cast a look over his shoulder at his prey and ordered, “Run.”

Wade scrambled on his hands and knees, disoriented but trusting in his Sir’s orders. It was a mixture of his headspace and the blood loss that had him dreadfully uncoordinated. He felt like a pile of unrelated parts that were hopelessly trying to get their act together. He tried to get to his feet, but only got about half way and fell on his face.

He crawled into the living room area before Peter caught up with him again. Peter flipped him onto his back and, with a maniacal smile, told Wade, “Fight me.”

Wade fought the best he could, but everything was moving so fast, the lights were too bright, the world was spinning, and his Sir was too strong. Every flailing defence was nonchalantly batted away, like Wade was a playful kitten. Some part of him delighted that he, the fearsome Deadpool, could be soundly subdued. And, right now, Peter wasn’t even some super who should be able to keep him down. Peter was just the cutest little twink that could put Wade where he wanted him. Wade was just a hopeless Daddy, in over his head, and ready to be used. 

The glint of the knife was the only warning he had before his wrists were affixed to the floor. The scream wasn’t out yet and already his ankles were pinned down. Wade couldn’t focus on the dark shapes protruding from his appendages, what they were and how they got there. After a moment, he recognized them as his throwing knives and his eyes rolled into his head. He had hoped for his weapons to be used on him, but now that it was happening, he was close to bursting. The knives were solidly stuck several inches into the floor and only the handles stuck out. His fuzzy brain couldn’t comprehend where the other three inches of the knives went and why it hurt so much. 

Peter stood proudly and lapped his prey in languide, investigative circles. He took note of how the blood lazily trickled around the blades, oozing into the white carpets. He noticed how his prey’s feet trembled and twitched, perhaps from nerve damage. The blades had not parted the tissue peacefully, snapping the bones and tendons that disrupted its path. Wade’s fingers scraped audibly against the carpets, forcing his wrist, ever so slightly up and down the knife. His hips, one of the only parts of his he could move, spasmed wildly to work the pain out. The Spider’s prey was like a live insect on display, splayed out, pinned down, and thrashing. 

He’d only grabbed four knives to pursue Wade, but he decided his prey had too much movement. He went back to the open bamboo box on the island to get four more. He began to walk back, but turned back around and took a fifth for good luck. The Spider quivered as his prey’s neck stretched to see his return and chewed nervously at his lip. He relished the look of panic that colored his prey’s face.

Two more knives found themselves in Wade’s upper arm, and the other two in his thighs. Wade’s teeth pierced his lip and Peter lapped at the small cut in a parody of a kiss. 

“Comfortable?” the Spider asked.

Wade could taste Peter’s breath on his tongue. He was so close, he could steal the kiss he desperately wanted. He didn’t because his Sir hadn’t given him permission. He reminded himself not to be greedy and to appreciate everything his Sir was giving him. “No, Sir,” he whispered.

The predator grinned. He appreciated honesty. “Good,” he praised with a chaste peck. 

His prey’s little costume was ruined and, while he looked pretty in it, he’d look prettier out of it. He cut it off down the center, then yanked the offending material away. His prey was fully vulnerable to him, aside from those tiny shorts. They could stay for now, but they weren’t surviving the afternoon.

Wade made a short protest, but quieted when he saw Peter’s expression. He understood the urgency, but he liked this apron. He could have washed out the blood, at least to a passable extent. He couldn’t mend a jagged cut up the center, not while keeping the patterns matched. Why couldn’t Peter just slit the straps when those would be far easier to repair?

Wade was reminded that, oh yeah, there were bigger things to worry about. His ear was no longer attached to his head. He decided that he’d talk to Peter about trying to keep his clothes intact at a later date. It was his fault for not specifying that during negotiation. 

The chewing and swallowing sounds were deafening. Wade found a strange satisfaction in watching Peter’s throat strain around the contours of his ear and watching it slide down his throat. It reassured Wade that his place was here, made with the purpose to be consumed and hurt beyond what any mortal could ever imagine. 

“All of my prey is delicious.”

Peter had such devotion in his voice. It made Wade want to find a way to make himself tastier, to be the best, most delectable treat for his Spider. Would pineapple juice sweeten the rest of him? “Thank you, Sir.” he preened. “All this Canadian bacon is for you.” 

A great boom echoed from the kitchenette, like garbage can lids slamming together. Wade’s heart beat impossibly faster. It was already lightning fast due to fear and pain and arousal, but it was trying to pump out of his chest. 

The Spider took hold of the fifth knife again and splayed protectively over his prey, facing the direction of the sound. Although his prey was larger than him, he tried to hide him with his body. His instincts screamed that another predator had come to steal his prize. He was prepared to slaughter any who laid a hand on what was his. 

He scanned the area where the noise came from, and for a long moment, there was nothing. Then, a familiar form peeked out of the newly opened vent in the ceiling. The Spider made a deafening sound that was half growl and half hiss. It didn’t sound like something human vocal cords could produce. 

“Wade!” Clint screamed, upside down and hanging halfway out of the vent.

The Spider scurried to face the voice and put his teeth into his prey’s soft belly. He made his claim obvious to this intruder.

Wade was pulled out of the fuzzy place his brain had been and was crashing back to reality. It was jarring to be forced up so quickly. It felt like being dunked in cold water, and he was not a happy camper. “What are you doing? Get out of here!” he shouted. He couldn’t believe birdbrain was cockblocking him and putting himself in danger. Wade didn’t have any self preservation, but he couldn’t die forever. Clint could die forever plenty easy and he was going to if he didn’t leave right this second. Peter was much more lucid than last time, but Wade did not like Clint’s chances if Peter turned on him. Wade might be able to pull Peter out of his ‘Spider’ headspace by using his safeword, but he wasn’t super confident. They had remembered to negotiate the safeword, right? What was that again?

Clint pulled something out of a holster and pointed it at Peter. “I have a tranq. One shot and I’ll get you out of here. Just give the word.”

Wade was pissed. Clint brought a tranq? Had he thought this through? What if he didn’t grab one that would put down a super? What if he shot the tranq, it succeeded in thoroughly pissing off an animalistic, feral Peter, and Peter turned on Clint? Wade certainly wasn’t going to be able to help. Eight knives were making sure of that. 

Peter did not like the intruder’s words. He clenched his teeth and tore away a massive piece from Wade’s stomach. He held the dripping mass in his snarling mouth, challenging the intruder. This was his claim.

“Jesus Mary fucking christ!” the intruder screamed. 

Wade and Clint’s screams melded into each other, but Wade recovered first. “You need to leave, dude,” the bleeding man implored. “I want to be here and you need to get that through your thick skull! Look at my pocket rocket, it’s ready to launch!” He lewdly rolled his hips to draw attention to his erection. Maybe he could gross Clint out?

Peter didn’t like the way his prey was speaking to the intruder. His prey should be focusing on him at all times. It looked like he was trying to tempt the intruder, even as he was telling him to leave. He didn’t like even the slightest hint that his prey’s attention was somewhere else. 

Wade noticed Peter’s agitation and decided that he needed to distract him. Clint was being a dumbass to rival all dumbasses, but he didn’t deserve Peter’s wrath. “Sir, Sir, Sir, Sir, please. Please, pretty please, please,” he begged nonsensically. He couldn’t think of what he should be begging for, but he hoped he sounded needy enough to draw Peter to him. 

It worked.

The Spider’s prey needed something and his prey’s needs took precedence over some easily dispatched intruder. After a moment, he figured it out. Prey was jealous that the Spider was taking the flesh all for himself. The Spider had a mouth full of prey and his prey wanted his share. Prey was tasty, and he deserved to partake in the bounty.

While the cogs turned in Peter’s brain, Wade was doing his best to convince Clint to leave with increasingly dramatic eye movements. Did he not see that Peter wasn’t in his right mind? 

Plus, he really didn’t want to ruin this scene. Baby boy had firmly attached him to the floor with his own knives, helpless and at his mercy. He needed to know what came next! Was he to be gutted or trampled or beaten to a pulp or skull fucked into oblivion? He was terrified and ready to take whatever Peter wanted to give him right here, right now. Who knew when Peter would give into a rampage again, especially if they were interrupted like this. 

The Spider clambered to straddle Wade’s midsection and leaned over to offer half of the soggy heap in his mouth. His prey locked his teeth around a portion, and the two battled for their half. They growled into it and, as Peter became more competitive, he gouged Wade in his open wound to get him to loosen his grip. They growled into each other’s mouths as they thrashed to split the flesh. 

The next time Wade looked at the vent, Clint was gone. Human flesh tug-of-war was a step too far for birdbrain’s fragile sensibilities. Or maybe Wade’s pleas finally sunk in, but it was probably the cannibalism. The crisis was averted and Wade could enjoy himself again. 

The Spider was so pleased to notice that their intruder was gone that he set his thumbs on his prey’s collar bones and promptly snapped them. He was even more pleased when it caused his prey’s eyes to gloss over again with a whimper. He pressed a bit farther, to find another bone underneath to break. The creak as he stretched the bone, then the crack as he fractured it, was delightful. “Mine. My daddy, my good boy, my victim,” he purred.

“Only for you.” Wade whined. “Built for you. No one can do this for you, Sir. I’m your perfect prey, right?”

“We cannot have another.” He laid a biting, possessive kiss on Wade’s lips. Wade pushed into the kiss, begging for more, but the Spider wouldn’t allow it.

Peter wanted to continue, but he had to take care of something first. “Water,” he grumbled and hopped off his prey. He made noisily stomped into the kitchenette and haphazardly moving any obstacles that were in his path. The blood and flesh lined his mouth and it was becoming burdensome to clear his throat. He got the glass, filled it, and drank deeply. It washed away the sticky bits of his prey that clung to his throat. It made him feel clearer and refreshed.

“Daddy, do you want water?” he offered generously. His voice was purposefully small, almost innocent and sweet. It was ironic coming from blood stained lips and sticky fingers. 

His prey sighed, “Yes, Sir.”

Peter refilled the glass and found himself back on Wade, straddling his chest. He was careful not to apply too much pressure to his rib cage. He held the glass a foot from his mouth and tilted it to deliver a thin stream of water into Wade’s mouth. The restrained man flinched as the water touched his tongue, but he quickly opened his mouth further and guzzled the water down. Only a few drops bounced out of his mouth. He was very good at swallowing with his lips parted.

The Spider liked how he looked desperate and how his prey had to rely on him to do simple things like drinking. The Spider decided when or even if he would receive the privilege of these necessities. His prey never needed to leave his web. 

Eventually, Wade drank less enthusiastically so break time was over. 

Peter traded in the glass for the discarded knife and slit Wade’s jugular along the length of his throat. He cupped his hands to catch the gushing blood as he watched Wade die. He drank greedily from his hands. He watched his prey’s expression as he processed the situation. First, was the shock, then the pain settled in, then the flutter of eyelids and the hazy focus, then the peace as he lost consciousness. It was fascinating to watch the lights in his eyes dim and fade. He was gone but a moment, which wasn’t long enough for Peter. 

As Wade resurrected, Peter severed his jugular, but much deeper than the last time. Peter slid his fingers into the wound to keep it open as he plucked the eight knives out of his victim’s limbs with his free hand. He flipped his prey over, only to return a blade through both elbows. He debated with whether he should give his knees the same treatment, but he worried it might interfere with his plans. It was somewhat unsatisfying to stab his dead prey. Bones shattering didn’t sound the same as when it wasn’t accompanied with screams.

The other seven knives were strewn around them, glistening with fresh, slick blood. There were a dozen fist-sized pools of blood soaking into the carpet in shades ranging from crimson to rust. Peter could hear the bones in Wade’s wrists and ankles popping back together. Wade’s fingers were spasming uncontrollably and, once he revived, he flexed to explore his new range of movement. It was a precious sight, absolutely picture perfect.

He crawled between Wade’s legs to sit and have access to the ass that had taunted him for days. Wade had shaken it, gyrated it, bent down to show off it’s plumpness, and “accidentally” ground it against Peter. He wore these tiny scraps that left nothing to the imagination. Wade was doing it for him to tempt him to take what was his.

He wasn’t ready to touch it, yet. He plucked up the knife and excitedly leered at his prey’s form. His shoulder muscles had healed up, leaving his back perfect aside from the ever-present scar tissue. He rubbed up and down his back, alternating between his hand and the knife. He didn’t press down hard enough to cut, forming faint lines along his spine and rib. At every touch, Wade instinctually tensed expectantly as he waited for whatever Peter inflicted on him next.

“Is daddy scared of what I’m going to do to you?”

“A little bit.” Wade realized he had a moment and scratched his nose on the floor. It had been itching him for a while and the bondage didn’t allow him to relieve it. He tried to keep it subtle because itchy noses aren’t sexy. While he was at it, he also scratched his cheek. It felt like the most satisfying itch-scratching experience he’d ever had and he sighed in pleasure. 

“What’s a baby boy going to do to his big, strong daddy?” he cloyingly purred. 

He sounded like he hadn’t just killed Wade twice in quick succession. Wade didn’t know where this deceptively sweet, baby boy persona was coming from, but daddy like. “I don’t know, but it’s gonna hurt. No one hurts me like you do.”

As if to demonstrate, Peter began slashing Wade’s back. They were long, deep gashes, sometimes scraping or slicing the bones beneath. It was a series of short and long strokes starting at his left shoulder blade and working it down. The words took form amongst the gore in sharp, crooked script, SPIDERS PREY. As he finished the ‘Y’, the ‘S’ was nearly closed again, much to his disappointment. He could recognize a sisyphean task when he saw one, so he only recarved the words three times more. 

He took a moment to savor the moment. He felt more alive than he’d felt in years, so elated his heart was in his throat. Not even the freefall before a swing could compare. He was drowning in Wade’s desperate little whimpers. It was downright adorable how he was grinding against the floor with every cut. His prey was immeasurably beautiful. “I burn for you,” he whispered, so full of affection. 

He ripped off Wade’s booty shorts. The fabric fell in shreds around them, and Wade mourned the loss of yet another item of clothing. He was too floaty to be more than slightly miffed. It was probably already blood stained beyond repair, anyway. His brain was focused on what being naked meant to the fate of his orgasm. That would make his perfect evening all the more perfect. 

Peter hissed, and the mood in the room tanked, “What’s this?”

Wade’s brain was currently being run by a hamster that had chewed off three of its legs and hadn’t regenerated them yet. The hamster couldn’t think of what Peter was referring to. “Huh?” he responded dumbly.

Peter ripped something from Wade's ass, not at all gently, and dangled a shiny metal thing in front of Wade’s face. The shock sent a jolt up Wade's spine and forced his eyes open. He knew it was his silver butt plug, adorned with Peter’s peridot birthstone. “Sorry, Sir. I forgot I had that in.” Remembering he had a butt plug in was for a job for a Wade with 50% more blood.

“Why was it in you?” Peter shoved three fingers inside of Wade. Wade squealed because, while he was somewhat stretched by the plug, his rim was not prepared for the penetration. Peter had obviously not spent much time fingering asses because his nails scraped Wade’s delicate insides. Perhaps, he knew how to finger asses and didn’t care if there was some collateral damage. 

“I wanted to be ready, whenever you wanted. Wanted to make it easy. Wanted to be a good daddy for you. Just slide in whenever you wanted me,” Wade rambled. He had somehow kept the massive bottle of lube and his enema kit in the bathroom a secret. 

That seemed to appease Peter. “Mine. This is mine,” he asserted as he slid a fourth in and thrust punishingly. “Keep it clean, but I control what fills your hole. If you are filled, it’s because I decided to give it to you. You will not touch it for pleasure.” 

New tick on his kink list: chastity. It didn’t appeal to him when he thought about engaging in chastity play with other people, but that was Sir’s hole now. Maybe it was the way Peter said that had him seeking friction against the carpet. “I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t do it again.”

“I’ll see that you won’t.”

Wade nodded and realized all of his dreams have come true. The joy hit him like a brick to the head. He was getting fingered roughly by Spiderman, and being told in a thousand ways that he belonged to him. It felt more real than the out of control animal instinct from last time. Peter was more present, more in the moment, and it felt like the man he knew. This was the man who rescued people out of burning buildings, visited children in the hospital, and ate shitty pizza. He had an honor code that would overwhelm a samurai and was sweeter than cherry pie. This is the man who wanted to own him, not some out of control mutant. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt unconditionally desired. To say it felt nice would be an understatement. 

Peter removed his fingers and replaced them with his dick. He scooted up to get as deep as he could get. When had Peter gotten himself out of his pants? 

Wade had a flash of worry, because they hadn’t discussed protection during their negotiations. While Wade couldn’t carry or transmit, Peter may want to practice safe sex on principle. Then again, Peter had ingested large quantities of his blood, so that would make safe sex considerations moot.

Peter thrust again and Wade's brain turned to mush. One hand on Wade's shoulder, one hand on the knife. As he pounded Wade harder, he clenched Wade's shoulder tighter and tighter. His fingers sunk in and he used Wade's freshly healed collar bone as a handle. Soon, the bone broke again, so he grabbed at Wade's wrists.

He obviously hadn’t thought that through, and as he picked speed up again, Wade’s arm snapped off at his elbow. Suddenly, he had two detached forearms in his hands. He decided that Wade was frustratingly delicate and the position was breaking him in ways he hadn’t intended. He sat down, removed the knives, and picked up Wade to seat him on his dick. 

Wade was thankful because the previous position had begun to sand his dick off. He was undecided if that was a good pain or bad pain situation, but that was just a little bit too much pain on top of pain mountain. He threw his stubby arms onto Peter’s shoulder as Peter bounced him up and down, like a blow up doll. It was easy to forget that this little twink could pick him up and throw him around like he weighed nothing. Peter bruised his hips, fractured his pelvis, and compressed his spine, but he didn’t want him to stop. He was being nearly screwed to death by the future father of his children and he couldn’t be happier. Life didn’t get any better than this. 

Except, it did. Peter kissed him passionately. Not a single drop of blood spilled this time. 

***  
When Peter came back to himself, it was far gentler. It was like the fog softly cleared from his mind. This time, there was no shock, only a little disappointment that he had snapped again. It didn’t feel as weighty or world changing. He already knew he was capable of committing atrocities. Some part of him knew Wade was right, and that he would succumb. The Spider turned off his guilt and inhibitions to embrace his instincts, but as he came down, he wasn’t as guilty as last time. The panic wasn’t there, and the self loathing was negligible, at least by comparison. 

He was softening inside of his friend. He realized that Wade was definitely not just his friend at this point. As Peter’s cum was cooling inside of him, it made Peter realize that they were teetering somewhere between friends and lovers. Friends fuck and maybe friends have kinky sex, but they don’t do what they had just done. The sex was amazing, his bloodlust was sated, and he felt like they had bared their souls to each other. He was not opposed to such a drastic change in their relationship dynamics, and he was surprised with how open he was to it. 

Wade had given himself fully and Peter had taken everything. Peter had turned him inside out and now it was his responsibility to put him back. Wade trusted him to do that, as he had trusted him the whole time. Peter felt the weight of that responsibility. 

“Hey, Wade?”

“Mm hmm?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Wunerful,” he sighed. “Jus wunerful.”

“You didn’t cum, right?”

He looked down to see his dick resting proudly on Peter’s stomach, ruddy and insistent. He hadn’t noticed he was hard, but it didn’t seem like an important detail. “No,” he said and shook his head. 

Wade couldn’t exactly take care of it himself, as his arms were strewn about the floor. Peter wondered how he could safely get rid of the arms. Maybe he would ask Friday for some biohazard disposal bags. “Do you want me to take care of it for you?”

“Nah, not ‘portant. Jus’ cuddles.” He tried to hug Peter around his neck, but it was challenging with stubs. 

“Shower?”

“No leaving. Was a good daddy?”

Peter’s heart broke a bit hearing that. He remembered Wade’s breakdown when he’d woken up alone after last time. Wade needed reassurance that he wasn’t abandoned. It made Peter think that Wade was often left to handle himself after scenes by himself. “I can carry you.” he offered, trying not to let his sadness for Wade color his words. “It’ll be nice if we keep the bed clean.”

“Whatever you want. Just don’t let me go.”

“Never gonna let you go,” he promised with a kiss to his forehead.

The last thing he said before he became nonverbal, but not unconscious, was, “‘’Kay, love you, Sir.”

Peter couldn’t delve too deeply into how he felt about Wade’s admission. Part of him wasn’t surprised Wade felt that way, another thought that no one could love him if they knew what a monster he was, and yet another wasn’t sure if those feelings were requited. The battle between those thoughts were complicated and were difficult to process on top of the other, post-scene feelings. Matters of the heart were a problem for later.

****

It was the evening when Wade woke up, clean, warm, and cozy in Peter’s arms. It was so perfect that he was sent into a fit of anxiety. This was everything he wanted. That couldn’t possibly happen. Every moment of happiness has either been an immersive delusion or ruined before he could properly enjoy it. 

There was no way Peter was with him, holding him like he was something that mattered. Peter was even drooling and pressed awkwardly against his shoulder and snoring. He was unmasked, vulnerable, and trusting. This was the domestic daydream he always wanted and knew he couldn’t get. He couldn’t believe he was allowed to have this. Was it a trick? Was he stuck in some extremely detailed hallucination, again? Was he going to wake up, for real, behind a dumpster?

He was struck with dread, because now that he had figured out the game, would this moment drip away? His chest stuttered and his eyes became wet, but he tried to keep the sobs back. He didn’t want to disturb the moment, so he could memorize the way the light bounced off his cheek. 

Peter was jostled awake and his face pinched in confusion. He was groggy with sleep and didn’t know why Wade looked so miserable. “Hey, hey, hey, big guy. What’s going on?”

“Not real. You are gonna go away.” He was starting to hyperventilate, just waiting for the cards to fall. He had memories that were wrong around the edges, fuzzy in the same way a dream is after waking. This hallucination Peter had touched him, hurt him, spoken to him in ways he wouldn’t actually. The sensations and conversations flowed like water away from him and he was left with a pervasive sense of wrongness.

“No, no. Not going anywhere,” the entity lied.

“Yes you are. You aren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“You aren’t really here. Real Petey hates me. He pretended to like me and he left me like everyone else. You’re gonna leave me next. Please, just go away. I don’t wanna see him when he isn’t here. Not again.”

He forgot sometimes that Wade was insane. Like legitimately, would have been committed if there was any treatment for it, kind of insane. Being a neighborhood vigilante hadn't magically turned Peter into a mental health practitioner. He did not have the skills to handle this. “Wade, I’m here. How can I prove to you that I’m real?”

“Tell me something about Peter that I don’t know.”

That was hard to come up with on the spot. Wade knew his secrets now. He could only think of random trivia. “Uh, my first kiss was with Jesse in the fourth grade.”

“You could have made that one up. I mean, I could have made it up. It is so stereotypical it hurts.” He rapped his knuckles against his forehead, building with intensity until it was making him dizzy.

Peter sighed loudly and pinned Wade’s arm to the bed so he couldn’t hurt himself further. What didn’t Wade know about him that would be surprising enough? “My worst grade in college so far is a B+.”

“Of course it is, Petey is so smart. I know my Petey is a genius.”

“I masturbate thinking about you sometimes,” Peter confessed, hoping the lasciviousness was shocking. 

Wade sneered, “No wonder you weren’t getting off much. The funny business up here is such a boner killer.”

“Jesus Christ, Wade! How do you know that? What is with you and violating my privacy?” He was embarrassed because, how long had Wade been following him and what had he seen in that time. 

The outburst drew Wade back into the moment. Fantasy Peter wouldn’t yell at him like that. His memories refocused and yeah, Peter had actually dismembered, cannibalized, and fucked him. Those were real things that actually happened to him. It was like his brain couldn’t believe what was happening and triggered these panic signals that made Real Petey feel a lot like Fake Petey. 

But, oh shit, Petey was mad at him again. “Oh shit, sorry man. I’m good, I’m good. The ol’ noggin needed a reset, I’m sorry. And I’m really fucking sorry about the stalking. I was just so worried about you when you were acting funny and I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I guess that makes sense, how you found me in the middle of nowhere.” He couldn’t find it in himself to keep the angry tone, still waking up and wrung out from their scene. Wade was fucked up and maybe it was Peter’s fault for never explicitly telling Wade not to stalk him. Peter had killed him a few more times today so Wade deserved a pass. “Come ‘ere,” he called with outstretched arms. Wade looked skeptical of Peter’s motives, but couldn’t resist the lure of cuddles. He snuggled into his arms and relaxed when he realized these cuddles were given unconditionally. “I’m not mad, but we are talking about privacy later.”

“Okay,” Wade whined, looking forward to that conversation exactly zero percent. “If it helps, you weren’t supposed to know about that.” 

“That absolutely does not help.” Peter couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. “I’ll guess you’ll just have to earn my forgiveness again, won’t you, daddy?”

Wade shivered at the threat, and Peter knew they were going to figure this all out, whether they could find a way to fix him or not. They obviously couldn’t solve all of their problems with no hold barred sadism, but there was no one else he wanted to be in a twisted, codependent relationship with. They were going to be okay.

Peter held him a little tighter and, in that moment, he was perfectly happy to be Wade’s monster.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter got a text later that evening.

Tony: You’ll need to come to the med ward tomorrow.

Tony: Prof X is coming to the tower. And Bruce is going to run blood tests while you are there.

Peter: Telepathy bald guy?

Tony: That’s the one. Get ready for the mind probes.

Peter: Sounds like a blast :/

Tony: I know. I wouldn’t want him poking around either.

Tony: On the positive side, it might just be a hormonal issue. We might be able to give you some pills and send you home in a few days. 

Peter: Is it ever that easy?

Tony: For us? Usually not, kid. 

The next text came twenty minutes later.

Tony: Clint has been watching bad reality TV in the lounge for 6 hours straight. I don’t know what happened, but I told him to stay out of your business. 

Peter sighed loudly, remembering that Clint had popped in during their scene. It was massively embarrassing that Clint saw him like that. His Spider, lingering happily in the back of his mind, was quick to remind him that Clint was an intruder and they had a score to settle. He told the Spider to piss off, and that Clint didn’t want to take his prey. 

Peter: Yeah, he came in through the vent and saw some things. Wade kept trying to tell him it was consensual….

Tony: Say no more, I don’t wanna know. Damn it, I told him to stay out of there. I’m going to install lasers to fry his ass next time he goes up.

Peter: I don’t know if he deserves lasers. What about lining the vents with sticky traps?

Tony: I’ll teach him to stay out of my vents, don’t you worry. 

***  
Wade refused to leave Peter’s side when Peter said he was getting a few tests done. He was uncompromising on the issue, even when Peter insisted that he would be fine alone. 

The door unlocked at 5:45 pm the next day and they were directed down the hall, into the elevator, down into the sub basement, across the level, and to an open door. As the door closed, they heard heavy bolts slide in place. They were stuck on the illuminated side of the room, separated from the other side by a sheet of ‘glass’. The transparent material was probably something much stronger and more durable than glass. The pane had variously sized and shaped hatches. They weren’t large enough for a person to completely pass through, but enough for a leg or arm to slip though when the door was opened. This side of the room had a cot and nothing but concrete. 

It was not a friendly atmosphere. Wade tamped down his anxiety because, as much as he didn’t like Tony, the man was like a mentor to Peter and wouldn’t do anything untoward. Wade would be there to make sure nothing happened anyways. They sat down on the cot, pressing against each other and holding hands. They talked about things that didn’t matter and laughed nervously at their half-hearted jokes. They were only in there alone for a few minutes, but time seemed to slow to an aching crawl.

The door finally opened with little fanfare, revealing a frazzled Bruce Banner, carrying a tray. When he saw the pair, his expression was apologetic. “Sorry we had to put you in these rooms. They aren’t very cozy.”

“Nah, it isn’t. I didn’t know these rooms were down here.”

“They are for the people we think might be sick or infected, but can’t get traditional treatment. We’ve fought a few mutants who were either given chemicals or found something they had bad reactions to. Do you remember when we fought that wasp girl?”

Peter cringed, remembering how swollen and itchy he’d been for a week. He’d taken more stings that day than a regular human could survive. “I’d like to forget that, honestly.”

Bruce opened one of the oval hatches at elbow height. “Please put as much of your arm through here as you can manage. You might need to crouch a little.” When Peter complied, Bruce grabbed the elastic band and stretched it around Peter’s upper arm. “Well, the wasp girl was a mutant having an allergic reaction from a rare species of flower one of her wasps brought home. She was just a scared kid, so she lashed out. Those are the kinds of cases we bring down here. We figured out what was going on, treated her, and we got her parents in touch with some services.” He tore open the alcohol wipe and cleaned the area. 

It was nice, it was like Bruce was trying to reassure Peter that he wasn’t judging Peter for being on this side of the glass. If there was anyone in the world who wouldn’t judge him, it was Bruce. Peter suddenly felt a connection with the quiet scientist. Bruce knew what it was like to be locked up and scared of the future. Peter wanted to hug the man and commiserate about the horrors of their existences. Life wasn’t fair to either of them. 

“I usually don’t deal with the after fight stuff,” Peter laughed awkwardly. He did feel sort of bad that he didn’t see the fights through. He didn’t know that person was a little girl. She had been covered in layers of wasps into some sort of amorphous, wasp-y mass. It made it a weird thought that he had kicked a little girl having an allergic reaction in the shoulder. 

“I prefer it. I don’t want to be out there if I can avoid it,” Bruce laughed mirthlessly as he flicked at a vein. 

“I can imagine,” Peter said, not sure how to respond. “Do you know why I’m down here?”

Bruce took the needle out of the casing and got it into the vein with no trouble. The blood started flowing, and he attached the first vial. “Tony didn’t give any specifics. We are looking for reasons you might experience excessive aggression.” He traded out the first vial for the second. 

It made sense why Bruce was down here, doing the blood draw. He was a familiar face who understood having uncontrollable urges. His low, slow way of talking was calming and genuinely non-threatening. Peter was glad it wasn’t one of the team’s normal doctors, who were all talented and competent, but didn’t have the best bedside manners. It was nice to have some understanding and peace when handling this deeply personal situation. Bruce was a good guy. 

Even with Bruce’s mild manner and gentle treatment, Wade was staring holes in the floor and he was looking a bit green. Peter wished Wade had listened to him about staying in the suite. Wade put on a brave face, but it wasn’t very convincing. He heard how Wade shifted when he got a stinging whiff from the alcohol swab. 

He appreciated that Tony was only sharing relevant pieces of information. He wouldn’t have been mad if he spilled the beans to Bruce completely, but he was glad that he could reveal this part of himself if/when he was comfortable. “Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”

Peter watched numbly as his blood splashed out of the tubes, into the vials. It came out to seven total, which seemed like an awful lot. The three were quiet and somber as Bruce completed his task. 

Bruce removed the needle, untied the band, wiped the tiny bead of blood away with another alcohol pad, and put a bandage on it. The needle went in the sharps container and the gloves came off. “I’ll get these to the lab. Tony’ll let you know when we get results.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Bruce turned to leave, but turned back to add, “Hey, uh, if you want to talk about mutation stuff? I can talk. We can talk about it, if you want.”

Peter found a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. It was incredibly kind of Bruce to offer his support and Peter was seriously considering taking him up on it. “Thank you. I’ll reach out if I need it.”

As Bruce left, Tony was coming in, holding the door open for Xavier behind him. 

“Ah Wade,” Xavier greeted. “I could hear you from the ground floor.” Peter had not expected that deep, powerful voice from such a frail body. 

“X! Glad you could make it out. Did the mansion blow up again?” Wade said, attempting to sound jovial. 

Xavier grimaced, “We are rebuilding the west wing, but I am strictly in the city on Stark’s request. As I understand, Strange declined.”

Peter and Wade didn’t know that Tony had tried to get Strange, but Peter couldn’t imagine that went smoothly.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed. “He dodged my calls and teleported away when I sent Hawkeye to talk to him. According to Hawkeye, Strange said, ‘I’m not getting involved in that nonsense,’ and disappeared.”

Yup, that sounded like something Dr. Strange would do. Then again, Peter couldn’t blame someone for not wanting to be a part of Peter’s mutation issues.

“I may be the second choice in this, though I believe this is my area of expertise,” Xavier said, speaking generally but his words were aimed at Peter. Perhaps he was miffed that he wasn’t the first choice, though that seemed a touch petty for a man of his status. Maybe he was just discussing his competency to assure Peter. “However, this will be a little difficult with Mr. Wilson here.”

Peter jumped at this, ready to defend his friend. “I want him here, he won’t be an issue.”

“Peter, I have nothing against Mr. Wilson, but he projects his thoughts very strongly. I am blocking yet I still hear him.” He chuckled and sent an amused glance to Wade, “Pink potatoes.”

Tony and Peter looked at the older man strangely. 

“Mr. Wilson asked me to say that if I can hear him, I thought I might indulge him. In all fairness, Wade, I can’t make sense of most of what you project. Most of it is just loud noise.”

Tony was ready to get down to business, half of his focus on his phone. “That’s all well and good. Do we need to send him upstairs?” 

“That is unnecessary, I do not want to upset these young men more. Wade, would you mind singing a song in your head?”

Wade, uncharacteristically quiet, gave an odd look and nodded, “Can do, Mr. Prof Man.” After a few moments, he started bobbing his head and tapping his fingers to some imaginary beat.

“Much better, I can separate out your minds easier like this.” He then redirected his attention. “Peter, is Mr. Stark allowed to stay and hear what I see?”

Having Xavier’s surprisingly intense gaze on him had him speechless for a long while. “Ye-yeah,” Peter stuttered. “He deserves to know.”

“Perfect. Are you ready?”

Peter took a deep, shuddering breath and prepared to bare his soul to a stranger. He reassured himself that Professor X had seen a great many horrible things as a telepath and maybe Peter’s brain fuckery isn’t even the worst he’s seen. He tried to remind himself that he lost his right to privacy the moment he lost control. Professor X could be the key to his rehabilitation, at the price of shame. It wasn’t the worst trade off. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

“This should only take a few minutes. You shouldn’t feel anything, but don’t panic if you feel me brushing against your mind.” Xavier sat a little taller and cleared his throat. He radiated competency and power in a way that said he had this situation under control, don’t worry. “Now, I need you to close your eyes and think about times where you’ve had these uncharacteristic thoughts.”

He tried to think about the first time he noticed these strange urges, but his mind drifted to Wade. He couldn’t reign in his thoughts away from the hunger that had been building over a year. It was the first time he saw Wade without his mask, the first time he saw Wade die, the first time he saw Wade splatter on the sidewalk, the first time he saw Wade torn in half, the first time he saw Wade's bones rip through his suit. Every act of recklessness was a cruel tease, just flaunting how everyone and everything got to hurt Wade, but him. The mask covered how much Wade’s pain gave Peter pleasure, while his heart dropped into his chest in disgust. Then Wade was there when he needed him, and soothed his heart. Wade accepted him and gleefully took the Spider’s sadism. Wade made the Spider look at him and want no other. Peter and the Spider only wanted to drink of his blood, dine on his body, and breathe in his air. 

He tried to think about other things but his mind screamed Wade, Wade, Wade, Wade.

Despite the Professor’s assurances, he expected the experience to feel more intrusive and violating than it was. There was a hint of a sour taste in the back of his mouth, but he could have imagined that. His brain was probably telling him he should feel something when someone was rifling through his mind.

It felt like hours, reliving those memories with new contexts, before Professor X brought him back. “I saw what I needed to see. Both of you can relax your minds.” He turned to the side to address Tony apologetically. “Mr. Stark, I’m afraid this is not what you think it is.”

This finally pulled Tony off his phone, and he slid it into his pocket. He hadn’t expected this answer and he wasn’t pleased to hear it. “What do you mean? It’s not part of his mutation?”

“It’s not just part of the mutation, it is the mutation,” Xavier answered. 

“So there’s no way we can just, I don’t know, block out the messy parts?” Tony suggested.

Xavier’s expression conveyed that this was not a situation with so simple a fix. He was silent as he searched for the right analogy. “It would be like trying to get the egg out of a baked cake.”

Peter spoke up, trying to stay hopeful, “So what if we got rid of my mutation? There are trials going on for the treatment of harmful mutations, right? I could volunteer for the testing.”

Wade’s heart broke for Peter. They had been so happy just the night before, and Peter was ready to throw away a massive part of his identity to be ‘normal’. He hated the suggestion, he hated the thought of Peter as some guinea pig. Couldn’t they go back to the room and cuddle and not worry about any of this nonsense. He scooted closer to reach his hand out to Peter. Peter’s hand was shaking.

Xavier looked wildly uncomfortable with the suggestion, his jaw tight. “Those trials are inhumane, and we are trying to shut them down. I cannot overstate how much I would not recommend taking that route. Least of all because I don’t think it would work.”

Peter squeezed Wade’s hand and broke a few of his fingers. Wade held in any sounds of pain and Peter didn’t notice what he did. “What do you mean?”

Wade realized this conversation was going to be upsetting, so he got up and wrapped himself behind Peter. He offered both of his hands to hold, which Peter took gratefully. 

“Your spider instincts and your ‘self’ are enmeshed. The cake analogy works for this, too. I followed the tendrils and found the spider instincts wrapped around and inside the core facets of your identity. If you try to separate them, I think it would destroy who you are.”

“So there’s nothing that can be done? Just lock him up forever because he’s uncontrollable?” Tony asked, obviously distressed that he couldn’t solve this. 

If Wade hadn’t been holding Peter up, Peter would have fallen to his knees. His breaths quickened, on the verge of hyperventilating. This was what he was worried about. He was never going to be able to go back to his life. He wasn’t going to have friends anymore, or swing in the New York City skyline, or finish college, or make a difference. Fuck. His life was over. When Tony vocalized his fears, it made it infinitely more real.

“I would hardly be so dramatic. The spider instincts feel stable, and I don’t think that he will be dangerous to anyone other than Mr. Wilson. Mr. Parker needs therapy and time to cope with the instincts, and it can be regularly managed with Mr. Wilson. I see no reason why he wouldn’t be able to return to a relatively normal life once he’s found how to coexist with his instincts.”

Peter was ready to cry in relief. “I can go back, like before, even like this?” His voice was high and quivering. 

“I’ll tell you this, Peter. Not all mutations are benign or positive. I’ve seen plenty of those frankly intimidating ones at the school, and there’s never been a hopeless case. You’ve been handling this alone for a long time and it’s not surprising that it came out in such an explosive manner. Things won’t be exactly the same, but you’ll learn and develop the skills to handle this. What you need right now is support and understanding to get you there.”

“You can’t solve everything with ‘support and understanding,’ Xavier,” Tony stated, skeptically. 

“Maybe, but that’s what Peter needs right now. There’s no pill or trick that’ll fix this, just hard work. I’ll put you in touch with the school’s therapy team.”

Peter let Wade’s breathing set the pace for his own. Wade was so good for him, so big and steady and amazing. “Thank you, Professor. I want to talk to them. I’ll do whatever it takes to control this.”

“Of course. This situation is not as dire as you believe it to be. Things will be different, but you have the will and we will get you the tools to return to some version of normalcy.”

Peter nodded, not trusting his voice. 

***  
It took Peter a few hours to realize that the tightness in his chest had loosened. Professor X hadn’t told him what he wanted to hear, and neither had the lab results, but they had a plan. There was a way forward. Life was never going to be the same, but he had Tony to support him and a dedicated Wade at his side. He needed Wade like he needed to breathe, and he was never going to be able to let Wade go. The thought of Wade leaving him made him feel like he was drowning. 

He silently apologized for trapping Wade in his web and clung to him tighter. 

Wade, comforting his distraught spider with cuddles and kisses, had his own realization. Peter was never going to be able to leave him. Peter would probably try to fight it for a while, but they would become inextricably tied together sooner rather than later. He was going to be Peter’s everything, the peanut butter to his jelly, the egg in his cake. Peter was going to be his, to keep, to hold, to love. Wade couldn’t think of a greater gift than to be decisively claimed by his beloved. 

A smile spread over his face. He wasn’t sorry for any of the morally dubious acts that got him here. This was the start of his happily ever after. 

Wade kissed away Peter’s tears and wordlessly promised he would be the best husband in the entire multiverse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, sickos, for reading this gruesome mess. I can't believe the amount of support I've had for this, and how kind everyone was. Thanks to everyone who motivated me to keep writing. This story wasn't going to have a part 2, but here we are!
> 
> This is the end of this series. For now. 
> 
> Please, someone, write more feral!Peter. I need it <3


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